streets of gold
by xfucktheglasses
Summary: It's a two man wolf pack. —Sasuke, Ulquiorra.


For Stover. I love you my wonderful Stoverfadoodle.

**streets of gold**

The building held an unbearable stench.

It was old, abandoned and at the point of tumbling down—especially with the harsh wind of the season's first snowfall. Every window of every floor was cracked and broken, spiderweb glass and even some with nothing but sharp, jagged edges threatening anything that wished to trespass. The floors were empty—some were hurricane victims of people evacuating, leaving a story behind with the mere flip of a table or couch or a shattered window or papers strewn around the ground without much care.

Sasuke was on the third floor of this abandoned building, thick, dark scarf covering the lower part of his face, hair messy and freckled white with snowflakes. He was crouched in front of one of the windows, his sniper rifle ready to fire just as soon as he deemed it the right time. He was cold, he was hungry and he was _tired_.

But a job was a job and the pay was good.

Bonus that he was out of the house and away from his stupid, annoying, whore of a roommate.

Sasuke glowered, at this, black-red eyes scanning the empty streets. It was the middle of the night—around two in the morning if not a bit later, his experience estimated— it was snowing and Sasuke was hiding within the shadows of a dead building, waiting for his target—a man of influence of which he did not even _care_ about; twisted man with twisted morals and twisted views hidden behind a veil of a hopeful smile—to appear.

He sighed and paused, mid dropping down into a criss-cross position, as he heard something.

He was an assassin and even something that was inaudible to others—a pin dropping to the ground—was the loudest thing he could ever hear. It was basic training, basic knowledge; blend into the surroundings, enhance your five senses and never drop your guard.

Someone was within the ample, empty, abandoned room. Hiding deep within the shadows, barely breathing, steps like a phantom.

Sasuke surveyed the darkness.

"I know you're there," he drawled, resuming his process of sitting down in a more comfortable position. He flexed one of his gloved hands, the uncovered tips almost numb from the cold; he wiggled them before shoving a hand into one of the pockets of his vest, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "You should come out before I decide to fire."

The steps were slow—solid and without hesitance, but slow. And he appeared from out of the shadows, all pale skin and shoulder-length dark hair and glowing chartreuse eyes, half-lidded and giving away nothing.

Sasuke eyed him with a calculating glance, smoke from the cig exhaling from his nose, the stick still caught in between his teeth. Out of habit, he listed every single weapon he carried in his person—the knife tucked into his boot, the magnum hiding at his lower back, cool to the touch, another handgun tucked inside the strap around his right thigh.

The man didn't talk, just stared at him with a look Sasuke knew he could mirror without much trouble.

He was an assassin, as well. Assassination jobs were the easy way of making money, easier with every corrupted bastard that tried to rise to power, easier with every ounce of corruption the police force was injected with, easier when there was so much wrong and little to no right. Killing was the only option—only those with dirty, broken faces survived because those were the ones that suffered.

"I am too tired to even care about your presence," the man said, lips barely moving and voice almost inaudible.

Sasuke eyed him some more, plucking his cigarette out of his mouth and parting his lips to allow the smoke out. "Likewise."

The man's green eyes slowly turned to the side as he advanced towards a window, his own sniper rifle hanging off of one of his shoulders, in a position for easy grasping if need be. Sasuke watched him as he crouched down, next to him. Assassins were not friends with each other; assassins were rivals. Hungry wolves looking for the next red riding hood and they weren't going to share the fresh meat.

But Sasuke was too tired to follow code.

He was too tired to even _care_.

"Aizen hasn't made his appearance," he drawled, flicking the butt of his cig into the mouth of the starving darkness. "He's probably with Madara as we speak."

The man was quiet, his eyes studying the surroundings—the black night and the white snow and the emptiness the shadows left behind. "How interesting."

"Che."

Sasuke leaned his head back on the wall, eyes closed. The temptation to fall asleep was tantalizing—but to be present as a rival assassin killed the target and made the money? It was suicide to his reputation; and even if that meant nothing to Sasuke, it meant everything to his career. No, he had to stay awake no matter how much his eyes stung.

"Falling asleep on the job," he said; a question without being a question.

Sasuke scoffed and shifted in his seat. "Try having a fuckface for a roommate. Then you can mock."

"I do."

Sasuke turned to him, eyebrow raised.

"Grimmjow is a gorilla. And I hate his existence."

It was quiet before a slow, lazy smirk tilted Sasuke's lips. "Yeah. Kiba's a whore, so."

"Yes—the women—the endless amount of annoying women."

"Irritating cunts."

"Indeed." The man's dark hair fell over his bright eyes. "I'm tired, too."

Sasuke's smirk widened. "Figured." He sighed, slouching back down in his seat. "Shit night to do a job. What're the chances of those bastards being alive in the morning?"

"Slim," the man said.

"Che, good enough." Sasuke closed his eyes, arms cradling his rifle. His Adam's apple twitched as he swallowed, hissing his name in case if he was needed. It was quiet and unspoken but there was an alliance, if just for the night. And this guy—this assassin, this wolf—needed his name. The emitted secret left a bitter tang in Sasuke's tongue, but he blamed it on the cigarette.

The man was quiet, for a minute. It was only until he shifted into a position similar to Sasuke's, a good amount of space between them, was it then that he murmured, "Ulquiorra."

The truce hung around them like a cloak; two wolves hiding in a burnt out building, sleeping behind jagged windows with guns as their covers, letting the money over bounty heads escape because sleep called them like a nest of sirens. It was quiet, a silent ringing as their background music, before Sasuke and Ulquiorra fell asleep, they gave one last nasty thought to their obnoxious roommates because they were the reasons they were sleeping on the job.


End file.
